think it's irreverent, do you? But then, you're not a minister."
"POOR DEAR GILBERT:
"'I said of laughter, it is mad, and of mirth, what doeth it?' I'm
afraid I'll turn gray young . . . I'm afraid I'll end up in the
poorhouse . . . I'm afraid none of my pupils will pass their finals
. . . Mr. Hamilton's dog barked at me Saturday night and I'm afraid
I'll have hydrophobia . . . I'm afraid my umbrella will turn inside
out when I keep a tryst with Katherine tonight . . . I'm afraid
Katherine likes me so much now that she can't always like me as
much . . . I'm afraid my hair isn't auburn after all . . . I'm
afraid I'll have a mole on the end of my nose when I'm fifty . . .
I'm afraid my school is a fire-trap . . . I'm afraid I'll find a
mouse in my bed tonight . . . I'm afraid you got engaged to me just
because I was always around . . . I'm afraid I'll soon be picking
at the counterpane.
"No, dearest, I'm not crazy . . . not yet. It's only that Cousin
Ernestine Bugle is catching.
"I know now why Rebecca Dew has always called her 'Miss Much-
afraid.' The poor soul has borrowed so much trouble, she must be
hopelessly in debt to fate.
"There are so many Bugles in the world . . . not many quite so far
gone in Buglism as Cousin Ernestine, perhaps, but so many kill-
joys, afraid to enjoy today because of what tomorrow will bring.
"Gilbert darling, don't let's ever be afraid of things. It's such
dreadful slavery. Let's be daring and adventurous and expectant.
Let's dance to meet life and all it can bring to us, even if it
brings scads of trouble and typhoid and twins!
"Today has been a day dropped out of June into April. The snow is
all gone and the fawn meadows and golden hills just sing of spring.
I know I heard Pan piping in the little green hollow in my maple
bush and my Storm King was bannered with the airiest of purple
hazes. We've had a great deal of rain lately and I've loved
sitting in my tower in the still, wet hours of the spring
twilights. But tonight is a gusty, hurrying night . . . even the
clouds racing over the sky are in a hurry and the moonlight that
gushes out between them is in a hurry to flood the world.
"Suppose, Gilbert, we were walking hand in hand down one of the
long roads in Avonlea tonight!
"Gilbert, I'm afraid I'm scandalously in love with you. You don't
think it's irreverent, do you? But then, you're not a minister."